Hangover
by CrystallicSky
Summary: After the party comes the hangover...and some other stuff. N/C, ONESHOT


**Hangover**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Metalocalypse or any of its characters. I make no money from the writing of this fiction, nor do I attempt to.**

**Warnings: Bad language, sexual implications, homosexuality, hints of het, implied drug/alcohol usage, etc.**

-.-.-.-.-

It was around five in the afternoon when Nathan resumed the laborious task of being conscious. Immediately, a crashing, crunching pain made itself known from within his skull, as if his brain was being squished to a pulp in a vice.

Vice-squished brain-pulp…brutal.

He groaned aloud, only to wince as the gravelly sound of his own voice grated demonically against his ears and amplified his headache even more. Blood-gutted, pus-spewing _cocksucker,_ did hangovers suck!

A hand settled on his shoulder. The frontman's first thought was something along the lines of, "STOP TOUCHING ME" and he felt the need to jerk away, but a rare shred of logic kept him still.

If Nathan were to move too quickly right now, he would definitely puke and his throat felt way too sore and dry for that.

"Are we alive, Nathan?" a mercifully quiet voice asked of him. Through the haze of head-pain and the leftover booze in his system, he recognized the voice as that of his manager.

"What's this 'we' bullshit?" he growled under his breath, refusing to open his eyes. "You're probably sober, douchebag."

In a moment of rarity, Charles laughed. "Well, if you're lucid enough to call me a douchebag, I'd say you're alright," he surmised. "I'm sure you don't want this aspirin and water I brought you."

Without a word, Nathan opened his mouth, allowing a warmly chuckling Charles to place two of the pills on his tongue and pass him the bottle of water to wash them down with.

This done, Nathan reluctantly sat up, forcing his eyes open against the glare of light in the room.

He had apparently passed out in their living room on the couch. His bandmates were strewn about in various states of disarray, as if some sort of Deth metal party-bomb had gone off.

Pickles was partially submerged in the hot tub, still wearing his underwear and snoring around a bottle of Jack Daniels. Thankfully, he hadn't slipped all the way into the tub and drowned, though his tighty-whities were thoroughly soaked by now.

Toki had flopped over right on his beloved DDR machine, the colorful lights flashing beneath his face and still doing nothing to wake him up. Somehow, Deddy Bear had found its way into his arms and was currently being snuggled by the Norwegian.

Skwisgaar was completely naked on the coffee table. Nathan briefly wondered where his clothes might've gone since he was _sure_ he'd partied with a non-nude guitarist last night, but then he caught sight of a tiny, sexy thong and a large pair of granny panties on the floor near him and things made sense. Gross.

Murderface, of course, was difficult in being located and made Nathan work for it. When he was finally spotted, Nathan couldn't help but wonder how in the hell he'd gotten on the chandelier _and_ how he'd managed to get his underpants outside of his shorts.

Then, there was Charles, sitting calmly on the couch beside him with a wry grin on his face that said, 'I am completely sober and your antics amuse me.'

"What happened last night?" was Nathan's first question. It was quite sensible to ask it of someone who could actually _answer_ him as opposed to the other unconscious people in the room who likely wouldn't know even if they _were_ awake.

"The third DethAlbum went Diamond," Charles informed him. "You and the boys decided a celebration was in order."

"Whoa. We got completely smashed, didn't we?"

"Mmhmm. You were actually so drunk and high that you suggested Toki call Rockzo over so you could do cocaine off a stripper's ass with him."

Nathan's eyes went wide. "Tell me you stopped me," he begged.

"No worries," Charles promised, "you were distracted easily enough when William brought out that puzzle he's been working on for a year."

"The twelve-hundred piece one?"

Charles nodded.

"No way, did we finish it?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

"What'd it say?"

Charles wordlessly gestured over to where the large puzzle sat on the floor. In bold, black letters, it advised its completer to, 'Go Outside.'

"…Dude, you gotta be fucking kidding me."

"I wish I were," Charles said. "Then, I wouldn't have to get Murderface an even _larger_ puzzle to keep him more or less out of trouble."

Nathan's eyes did a sweep of the room again. "I'm the only one awake?"

"Yes. I haven't gotten around to waking the others just yet."

"Are you gonna?"

"Eventually," Charles smirked, inching _just_ a bit closer on the couch. "It's not often we find ourselves alone, though. I thought perhaps we could…make use of the time."

Nathan perked at what he knew was being offered. "Is this 'cause our new album is making you boatloads of cash or 'cause I'm sexy and you want my body?"

"A little bit of both," Charles assured.

"Works for me," Nathan decided, standing from the couch and pulling Charles with him. He was thoroughly thankful for the other man's foresight to give him that aspirin; his headache was starting to fade and with the departure of the pounding of his head would come the arrival of the pounding of his headboard.

Awesome.

-.-.-.-.-

**A/N: Boy, it's been awhile since I've written for this fandom/pairing. o.o**

**Anyways, I randomly decided to give it a shot, so here's a quick little oneshot to prove that Chack isn't the _only_ pairing I can write; just the one I like best. ;P**

**(And before anybody mentions HotGear, I'm working on something. Don't rush me, though, I don't write fic well under pressure.)**

**Thanks for reading, everybody, and I hope you liked it! :D**


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